


A Kingdom In Crisis

by tamstalltales



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Balinor Lives (Merlin), Canon Era, Gwaine Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), I Don't Even Know, King Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), King Balinor (Merlin), Lancelot (Merlin) Lives, Let's Just See What Happens, M/M, Multi, Political Alliances, Prince Merlin (Merlin), Rating May Change, Refugees, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change, Will Lives (Merlin), everything is implied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25699306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamstalltales/pseuds/tamstalltales
Summary: The Dragon Lords of Essetir had used their powers to establish trade routes with even the furthest lands, bringing spices, silks, jewels, all sorts of fantastic and fascinating things. All of which Camelot could only buy from Essetir. For many years, it had made them the most prosperous kingdom in all of Albion. That was, until the purge. Each year, more of Camelot's citizens arrive at the border camps, fleeing persecution for their magic. And each year, Ealdor and the other border villages need more help to support those in need.But could King Arthur's string of failed political marriages provide Prince Emrys of Essetir with a way to save the citizens of both kingdoms?
Relationships: Arthur/Lancelot (implied), Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Will (implied), merlin/lancelot (implied)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 80





	1. Prince Emrys, First Warlock of Essetir

The Lords of Essetir had always been more powerful than those of Camelot. Not as good with a sword perhaps, but what were the use in swords when you could strike a man dead with a word? Perhaps it was their use of magic that had kept the two kingdoms at war for longer than he had been alive. Or perhaps, Merlin thought as he flung himself on to the piles of luxurious pillows and kicked off his shoes, Uther Pendragon was just jealous.  
Gwaine stumbled across the room, tripped over Merlin’s shoes, and fell face-first on to the bed next to him. “You know, if I’d known you were going to end up a prince, I wouldn’t have joined your band of merry men.”  
Merlin rolled over and traced the gold lines of the embroidery between them, “Yeah, you would.”  
“Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaah, I would,” Gwaine laughed.  
“Are you staying tonight?” Merlin asked, lifting the long hair out his friend’s face.  
“Not a chance,” Gwaine said, “Never get much sleep in these beds as it is, and it’s my first day on the job tomorrow.”  
“Ah, got to be up bright and early now that you’re Sir Gwaine, First Guard of the Royal Household.”  
“Protector of Prince Emrys, First Warlock of Essetir, Son of the Duly Elected King Balinor, First Dragon Lord of Essetir,” Gwaine mumbled into the pillow, “Bit of a mouthful.”  
Merlin grinned “I bet! Lucky you.”  
“Nah, I hear he’s an ass.”  
“Oi!” Merlin grabbed the pillow out from under Gwaine’s face and whacked him with it. Gwaine flailed and fell off the bed.  
“Alright, alright, I’m going!” he laughed, jumping to his feet again.  
“Goodnight, Sir Gwaine,” Merlin called after him.  
Gwaine grabbed two apples from the bowl on the table as he passed and turned back to the bed. Holding the fruit behind his back he bent into a low bow.  
“Goodnight, my Prince,” he said, before aiming one apple directly at Merlin’s head. It came to a stop in mid-air a foot from its target and fell onto the bed. Merlin picked it up and bit into it. Gwaine pointed at the prince as he took a bite of his own. “Next time!” he said, apple juice dripping down his chin, and left.  
  


* * *

From the sound of Gwaine’s stomach it was almost time for dinner and the council meeting was still going strong. The members had spent much of the time discussing the appropriate distribution of resources to the villages along the Camelot border.  
A representative from Ealdor spoke, “My Lord, the harvest this year is scarcely enough to feed the villagers themselves, let alone sustain the surrounding camps.”  
“This Fae wishes to suggest that if they of Ealdor did not wish to feed so many of Camelot’s citizens, they of Ealdor should have simply established an armed patrol to stop them from entering the Kingdom of Essetir in the first place.” A member of the Fae delegation sneered across the table.  
The Ealdor representative, along with three other representatives from the border settlements, jumped to their feet, hands producing balls of fire or reaching for their weapons. Several of the Fae delegation responded similarly, though it was unclear whether their anger was directed towards the representatives or towards their own dissentious member.  
“Until there is peace between our kingdoms,” King Balinor said in a tone that Merlin had grown used to hearing as a child, “There will continue to be those who find their existence or practice at odds with Camelot’s laws and choose to seek refuge within our borders. We will not punish them for our failure to negotiate.”  
“Where are we on that score?”  
Merlin took the last bunch of grapes from the table in front of him and walked over to where Gwaine and Lancelot were leaning against the wall. He popped a grape in his mouth and split the bunch between them, still half listening to the meeting.  
“King Arthur seems more open to peace talks than his father was, but his stance on magic is… precarious, to say the least.”  
“Five gold coins to whoever gets one in his mouth,” Gwaine whispered, nodding towards the elderly court adviser, who had fallen asleep behind the King, his head lolling back and his mouth wide open.  
“You’re on,” Merlin said. Lancelot smiled and shrugged.  
The King’s voice carried across the hall, “I’m afraid that’s no longer on the cards, the Lady Morgana has fled Camelot.”  
“The Fae wish to inform the council that the Lady Morgana sought refuge with The Fae and they have welcomed her to sanctuary.”  
“The Representatives for Ealdor wish to know how that is any damned different to their offer of aid and refuge to the citizens of the border camps?” Will’s remark caused another kerfuffle and Merlin had to stifle a laugh.  
A grape bounced off the old man’s nose and his hand came up to bat it away. Gwaine went back to throwing his grapes in the air and catching them in his mouth while he waited for his next turn.  
“Is that an arrangement we could achieve with Arthur himself?”  
“In theory.”  
Merlin prepared his final grape, testing it for firmness between his fingers and tossing it lightly in the air to judge its weight.  
“Well, my Lord, King Arthur has so far been engaged three times, two of which were arranged to form a political alliance, none of which he has married, one of which he left at the altar, and another, if I remember correctly, he banished.”  
He took aim, readied, and –  
“Perhaps it was just because they were…”  
“Women?” Lancelot finished.  
Merlin’s grape hit the back of the King’s head. Gwaine laughed and began choking on his.  
“Prince Emrys,” King Balinor said, slowly turning to face his son, “Do you have some thoughts on this subject?”  
“Um, yes, my Lord. Sir Lancelot was just informing us that he believes King Arthur’s, um, preferences lie elsewhere,” Merlin turned to his friend, a smug expression on his face, “Care to explain your theory to council?”  
By this point in their friendship, one might expect Merlin to have stopped underestimating just how well prepared Lancelot was for any eventuality. At the very least, you’d think he’d have got used to his tendency to only say things he was over 90% sure were true. But apparently not.  
Lancelot took a step forwards and bowed, “My Lord, it is my belief that these marriages to princesses have not succeeded because King Arthur would prefer a prince.”  
The King nodded for Lancelot to continue and made a space for him to approach the table.  
“As the council is aware, I spent some time undercover in Camelot during Uther Pendragon’s reign, as part of the mission to free the Druid people from persecution. My position in court allowed me a great deal of time with the then-Prince Arthur. During which, I observed a certain closeness with some of his knights, that surpassed even that between himself and the Lady Morgana,” Lancelot paused, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks, “I also became acquainted with the Lady Morgana’s maid, an honest young woman named Gwenevere, who later found herself engaged to marry King Arthur. When Gwenevere was publicly found to have been unfaithful, King Arthur banished her and she fled to the refuge camp at Ealdor, where our paths crossed again. She told me, and I believe she would be willing to repeat this for the council if necessary, that her engagement to Arthur was of a similar political arrangement. Gwenevere also said it was not her actions that had angered him, but who those actions had been with; A man who had once been a favoured Knight.”  
King Balinor remained silent for a moment, tapping one finger on the rim of his goblet. “If this is the case, why does he not simply marry one of his knights? Is there yet another abhorrent law driving out Camelot’s citizens?”  
A noise somewhere between a gasp and a growl travelled around the hall. Some council members reached for each other’s hands, others touched the tokens they had been given by suitors.  
Lancelot glanced back at Merlin, “There is nothing in Camelot’s laws against such a union, my Lord, but it has never been done before. The manner through which titles and wealth are passed in Camelot, unlike the electoral customs of Essetir, require a blood relation or descendant. It has stopped unions taking place between two Ladies or two Lords for fear there would be no heir. There have been some unions between common folk.”  
“So if the Prince of Essetir, who was born with magic, were to marry King Arthur?” someone asked.  
Was it Will? Was that Will’s voice again? It sounded different to how it had earlier. Merlin’s head was spinning. He wasn’t a complete turniphead, but he sure felt like one now. Of course, it made perfect sense. How hadn’t he thought of that earlier?  
“My Lord, each of the kingdoms that have attempted these marriages have left with more than what they originally sought as an apology for the unsuccessful engagement,” one of the younger advisors said, pulling two parchments from the pile in front of her and handing them to the King, “Both alliances are still standing. Even a failed attempt at a union of this sort could provide peace and supplies for the border camps.”  
“And a successful union,” Merlin said, “Could bring an end to Camelot’s laws against magic.”  
King Balinor stood, “Then that concludes our business for the day. I will write to King Arthur and propose a political alliance through marriage to Prince Emrys, First Warlock of Essetir. Thank you for your guidance and patience during this meeting, the council is dismissed until next session. Please do stay for dinner, we’ll be having venison.”  
The council began to disperse and Lancelot made his way back towards Merlin and Gwaine, stopping to pick up one of the grapes on his way. It’s target still sat snoring in his chair a few feet away.  
“Did you… did you just marry Merlin off?” Gwaine almost laughed, stopped, shook his head, and made the same strangely humourless chuckle again.  
Merlin pulled a face, “I think so?  
Lancelot frowned and leant his shoulder against the wall “It’s very unlikely Arthur will take up the offer.”  
“You definitely just married Merlin off.”  
“Well, I guess we’ll see,” Lancelot stared at his floor-grape for a moment, then tossed it in the air. It came down in a perfect arc, landing in the old man’s mouth as he inhaled. The fruits sudden appearance at the back of his throat startled him awake and left with the other advisors, chewing as he went. “Dinner?”  
As the three of them left the hall, Gwaine grumbled something about stealing, though no one was quite sure if he meant the five gold coins he was handing him or not. 


	2. A Letter From The King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from King Arthur arrives and Merlin hatches a plan to find out if he really is an arrogant prat.

It arrived during breakfast a week later, a scroll sealed with the red wax imprint of a lone dragon. The table fell silent. Merlin watched, slopping a spoonful of porridge back into his bowl as Balinor retreated to an antechamber. Hunith reached across the table and placed a hand gently over her son’s. She hadn’t dressed in her stately robes yet, no rich embroidered blue velvets or silks, no jewels. Just her. With her hair undone and only a simple linen dress, she looked for all the world like they had never left Ealdor. And for a moment Merlin felt, or perhaps wished, they never had.  
“It is as much your choice as it is his,” She said, “There are always other ways to peace.”  
“I’m okay with it, mum. Really, I am. It’s just…”  
“Hmm?”  
“Well, you know, I’ve never actually met him. Lancelot, Gaius, Gwen and Elyan, even Gwaine’s met him! Although that was in a bar fight, so I’m not sure that counts.”  
“Didn’t you meet him when you used the ageing potion?”  
Merlin laughed, “For about a second, before Uther threw me in a cell and tried to burn me at the stake.”  
“Sometimes a second is all you need to judge someone’s character. So, how did he seem?”  
“Like an arrogant prat.”  
___   
The sword crashed into Gwaine’s shoulder. He stumbled backwards, received a blow to the back of his leg, and felt his knee give out beneath him. His opponent bowed slightly and turned towards the table, setting two cups beside the pitcher that waited on it.  
He stood, his eyes on the other man’s feet, “Again.”   
“Is this about my proposal to the council?” Lancelot turned to him, “You know Merlin would never do anything he did not believe to be right. He has voiced no objection.”  
“Again.” It came out louder than he expected. Gwaine raised his sword to strike at Lancelot, but his friend’s blade blocked his blow, and with just one twist and another blow to his shoulder, he found himself falling backward.  
“Forgive me, I did not mean to cause you pain,” Lancelot dropped his sword and removed his gloves, tucking them into his belt. “Merlin’s destiny, it has always been more than just us. He will be the one to bring peace to Essetir, and freedom to those with magic. Knowing him has made that clear.”  
His hands buried in the soft ground, Gwaine couldn’t bring himself to look up. It was only a slight indignity to lose repeatedly against a better swordsman, but it was something entirely different to do so when the weapon was words.  
Lancelot offered his hand, “Your feelings… my feelings… none of it matters.”  
“Your feelings,” Gwaine scoffed. He lifted his hand and stared at the wet mud on his palm.  
“Do not think you are the only one who has set aside their heart for the good of the Kingdom. Something’s are not meant to be, my friend, no matter how much we may wish they were.” Lancelot’s hand still hung in the air, but as he began to withdraw it, Gwaine gripped it tightly. He pulled him to his feet and, for a moment they stood in silence. They looked at their palms, now both caked in mud. Lancelot pulled a cloth from his belt and wiped the mud off before picking up his sword, sheathing it, and heading back to the table. Gwaine wiped his on his leg and followed.  
“Look at you! Why does anyone even polish that armour if you’re just going to get it covered in mud?” A bright voice said from the mess of black hair and blue velvet barrelled towards them, nearly knocking the table over.  
Lancelot made a small bow in Merlin’s direction. Gwaine laughed and attempted to do the same but was cut short by a wince.  
“Have you… hurt your shoulder?” the prince asked as he caught his breath.  
“It’s fine, I’ll live.”  
“Here, let me,” Merlin began loosening the pauldron on Gwaine’s injured shoulder, “I don’t see the point in combat when we can use magic. I can just zap them or something, why do we need you to be able to fight them?”  
Lancelot replied, “It’s a show of loyalty, my Lord.”  
“- and strength,” Gwaine added.  
Merlin rolled back the edge of Gwaine’s shirt, “Stupidity more like, stubbornness, maybe some sort of death wish. Do you just enjoy pain?”  
Lancelot erupting into what sounded like coughing, the water he had been drinking somehow ending up everywhere except the cup or his mouth. Gwaine shifted uncomfortably.  
Slipping his hand beneath the linen and pressing his palm to the slowly bruising skin, Merlin’s eyes flashed gold before he continued. “My father received a letter this morning, from King Arthur himself. He has agreed to an emissary from our court visiting Camelot to discuss how an arrangement like this would take place. A cultural exchange of sorts.”  
“And who does he plan on sending?” It took considerable focus for Gwaine to say the words aloud. The heat started low and soft, where the base of the prince’s hand met his collarbone. By the time he had reached the word ‘plan’, the tips of Merlin’s fingers felt like the were burning into his skin, melting through his bones until Gwaine’s arm and the upper half of his chest felt like it was on fire.  
“The person who knows Essetir’s laws and customs, and the magnificent Prince Emrys, better than anyone.”  
Gwaine smirked and pointed a finger at Lancelot, “Him?”  
“Oi! No, me!” Merlin removed his hand, punching the exact spot where it had just been.  
As the heat seeped away Gwaine’s hand began drifting towards his shoulder. “Ha! Doesn’t hurt now,” he said, with only the slightest hint of disappointment.  
“Whose idea was that?” Lancelot asked.  
“Mine. If I’m supposed to marry him, I should at least get to meet him first,” Merlin said, and began refastening Gwaine’s armour, “Besides, I actually do know the most about the camps, and magic. If anyone is going to solve those problems, I stand the best chance.”  
Gwaine turned his head to look at him, “The council will never let you go alone.”  
“I won’t be alone,” Merlin looked up, meeting his gaze, “You’re coming with me.”  
“Without an entourage?” Would it be rude to look away now? Or was it worse to keep looking? It certainly felt worse right now, Gwaine thought.  
“We thought it would be safer. Easier to get out if something goes wrong.”  
Cutting between them to take a sausage roll from the table, Lancelot said “Really? I should think a Prince with only one guard be likely to draw more attention than he would with an army.”  
“That’s why I’m not going as Prince Emrys, First Warlock of Essetir. I’m going, wait for it… in disguise!”  
“Oh, no! Why can’t you go with him? His disguises are terrible,” Gwaine looked from Merlin to Lancelot and back again, “Merlin, your disguises are terrible, and you know it.”  
“Sorry, Gwaine, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. Merlin, my Lord,” Lancelot did a slightly comical bow, “Forgive me, but he’s right. Despite all your magic, I have never seen even one of your disguises look convincing.”  
“I think the aging potion works really well!”  
“It looks ridiculous, my Lord.”  
“Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going as an old man anyway.”  
“And what are you going as?” Gwaine asked.  
“Merlin, of Ealdor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically this is literally MONTHS later than planned because lol pandemic and also I couldn't be bothered to write the other part of it, but here's this part, and y'all can have a much shorter chapter 3 where they arrive in Camelot and all that jazz sooner than planned. So yeah, sorry folks, you should have got Arthur at the end of this chapter but you can have him in the next one instead. (does this make it a slow burn now?)


End file.
